live organic. love organic.

Meet Bonafide Bombshell Maria Brickey!

About a month ago, in the middle of getting a pedi and simultaneously instagramming a shot of my toes, I glance up for a moment and see Maria Brickey. She’s adorable and I can’t take my eyes off of her. Fuchsia Pink hair, boyfriend jeans, flip-flops, strategically placed, artsy tattoos and perfect skin. I’d love to knock off perfect points for the Trenti sized Starbucks cup she’s holding, but I don’t … because it’s filled with water. “She can’t be more than twenty-eight,” I think, but I raise it to thirty when she sits down next to me. Not because she doesn’t look young, but because she’s more woman than girl close-up. I want to say something to her, but I stumble like I’m crushing on Macklemore and ask her what brand her boyfriend jeans are? “American Eagle Outfitters,” she sweetly replies with a smile. And then we don’t shut-up. We literally finish each others sentences. Here’s what I find out about Maria in the next thirty minutes:

She’s actually forty-two, married to her high school sweetheart (who later walks in with full sleeves), and a mother of four, one of whom is eighteen!? When she tells me this I look at her the way I once looked at Gwen Stefani in a swanky LA hotel bathroom. The “Seriously You’re Not Just Perfect Because They Airbrush The Crap Out of You, You Are Actually Perfect” look. I’m fascinated by this real life Gwen Stefani, mainly because she doesn’t have a team of stylists, a personal chef, Tracy Anderson kicking her butt and she’s not a millionaire. She’s a local, Petaluma stay at home mom who shares my weird Essie Nail Polish fetish, Iced Green Tea addiction and Coconut Oil for everything mantra. We almost share a birthday. I’m May 7th, she’s May 8th. Team Taurus yo. We both use the adjective “rad” and “bad ass” even though it’s clearly not the 80’s anymore. We’re both health obsessed and quickly learn that even though we got in to this mess via Vanity, it isn’t about Vanity at all, but about finding “Perfect Health” at any age. We eat clean and, at the moment, we’re both doing some seriously heavy detoxing. I love her because if she said anything less than all of this, I’d have to rethink my entire blog. If Botox and processed foods were her jam, and she looked this damn good, then everything I preach would be for naught.

I love her because she wants everyone around her, including her family, to be healthy too, so she painstakingly makes everything from scratch, even pasta and bread for the kids. It’s all about ingredients, even if you’re not gluten free. I love her because after twenty-five years together, she still thinks her husband is hot as hell and refers to him as her boyfriend on weekends. I love her because this is her latest Facebook message to me:

For Maria’s baby soft skin (and no, I can’t stop touching her arm when I see her), take Dead Sea Salt baths once every few weeks to sweat out toxins. This consists of hot water and Masada Genuine Sea Salts, and no lotion afterwards, just straight coconut oil on entire body and face.

Maybe Maria is who I would have been, had I done the whole marriage/kids thing at eighteen. I would have done it her way. With love and loyalty to herself and her family, and the smarts to take care of herself and her body enough to look like a bonafide bombshell at forty-two. I mean, her kids must think she’s rad, and her husband must think he’s married to a bad ass …..